


Blood Calls To Blood

by lilnome



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Damian and Marinette are twins, F/F, F/M, Fanon Felix - Freeform, M/M, MariBat, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug Speaks Chinese, Tiger!Marinette, non-daminette, slight salt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25988845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilnome/pseuds/lilnome
Summary: When they were eleven, Amirah and Damian were forced to fight to the death, yet Amirah threw down her sword. Amirah hasn't seen her brother since. Damian, however, had his memories wiped. When they are finally restored, he will do anything he can to find his baby sister again.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Luka Couffaine, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Félix Graham de Vanily
Comments: 134
Kudos: 647





	1. Prolouge

Talia was pregnant, and that was good. She would bear him a healthy heir, and with the combined genetics of himself and the batman in the child’s veins, the boy would be raised to rule the world. At least, that _had_ been the plan. And then, Talia had come back from her appointment with the specialist they had kidnapped to look her over. The man would be killed after the child was born, but he believed he would be returned to his family. Talia, who had begun to show almost two months ago (Almost five months along, now. He would have his heir soon. He had wanted to grow the child in an artificial womb, but Talia had fought five of his best generals for the chance to carry the children herself.) knelt before him and smiled.

“Father, I have excellent news.” Her accent was thicker. Whatever this was must be momentous to disrupt her usual calm demeanor.

“Speak, my daughter.” He commanded from his throne.

“I am pregnant, with not just one child, but _two_.”

“I expected nothing but good news. This is most excellent indeed, Talia. You are to no longer go on missions, or train. You will stay inside the compound, and your handmaidens will tend to you. These boys will someday rule the world.”

“Yes, Father,” Talia said, standing with a bit of a struggle, before nodding her head low and leaving him be. Yes, this was good. Soon, all would fall into place.

X0X0X

Four months and three days later, Talia went into labor at exactly four-oh-three in the afternoon. After two hours, his first grandchild was born. A healthy boy, weighing three and a half kilograms. After another thirty minutes, the doctor cried that the second child was crowning. However, nearly two minutes later, came words that managed to shock Ra’s.

“It’s a girl, my lord.” One of the nurses (A woman raised in the League, sent to the best medical school in the world at age nineteen) said, trembling before him.

“Very well. Talia, once the children are fed you are to rest. I shan’t allow you to die from exhaustion. You have earned a more honorable death than that.” Talia, who’s hair was matted and face shiny with sweat, nodded, reaching for her son and daughter.

“What are they to be named, Father?” Talia asked.

“The boy shall be Damian Amir Al Ghul Wayne, and the girl…shall be left to you to decide.”

“Thank you, Father. I shall name her Amirah Amreena Al Ghul Wayne.”

“A strong name, befitting my heiress. I shall leave you now. They shall begin training in three years. Until then, you will be sent to a small town in France, for the safety of yourself and your children. Am I clear?” Ra’s explained, making his way towards the door.

“Yes, Father.” Talia nodded, cradling her children close. At least she would have a few years with them. That was more than she had hoped for.

X0X0X

After resting and healing in the compound for six weeks, Talia, along with a girl that could easily pass for her cousin, Sabine, who was raised by the League after her mother died defending Talia as a girl. (Her father had been some random man who hadn’t wanted her, meaning the girl was part of the League from birth.) Sabine was as good as a sister to Talia, and overjoyed to hear that Talia had twins, claiming that she would safeguard the children with her life.

X0X0X

They arrived in Paris at three am on a rainy day in August, a month after the twins were born. Damian, when on the plane, and fussed and cried until Amirah had been placed next to him, and the twins had slept soundly the rest of the flight, entwining their tiny fingers and pressing their foreheads together. Each woman was wearing a baby carrier with one of the twins inside, Sabine having Amirah, who tended to fuss a bit more. Of the two, Damian looked more like his mother, with slightly darker skin and greener eyes, while Amirah looked like the perfect blend of her parents. Raven black hair from her mother, with vivid blue eyes like her father, and only a hint of her mothers Arabic-Chinese complexion.

The house they were living in was a decent size, with a room for each of the women, an office, a large sunroom that was to be made into a training room for Sabine and Talia, a nursery, a playroom, a large kitchen, and a family room, with a fully finished basement. It was near a large park and a patisserie-slash-boulangerie was right across the street. It was perfect. If only it could be forever.


	2. Chapter 1

When the twins turn three, they leave the only home they have ever known. They don’t understand, but they know that it isn’t good. Umi and Ayi Sabine are acting nervous, cuddling them more, playing more games with them, making all their favorite foods. It was scaring them. They played along for sure, but they were raised by the best of the best, they knew when something was off. When Umi had them each pack a small backpack full of books and toys, they knew they were going somewhere, just not where. They held each other’s hands tightly as Umi and Ayi Sabine buckled them into the car, and even tighter when they arrived at an airport.

“My loves, you remember the stories we have told you of your Grandfather?” The twins nodded, glancing at each other. “Well, we are all going to be living with him from now on, and you will begin training to become worthy heirs to your family name. It will not be easy, but it is doable, I promise.”

“We understand, Umi. Will Ayi be with us?” Amirah asked, always the more talkative twin.

“Yes, love, Ayi will be one of your trainers. Are you ready to go, our plane is waiting for us?” The twins locked eyes, squeezed each other’s hands, and nodded at their mother.

“We’re ready, Umi.” Gods, they weren’t ready.

X0X0X

When they were five, someone new joined their little family. He was a boy, really, no more than fifteen. Umi said that he was a student of their father, a man they knew little of. Umi said that he had been killed in an explosion and that Grandfather had allowed him to be resurrected in the pits. The twins were allowed to see the pits, but never to touch them. The water, if used incorrectly, lead to madness. Umi said Grandfather stayed sane through sheer will alone. Both children adored their Umi and Ayi Sabine, but Grandfather seemed…scary, like he wanted them to be something they weren’t.

When the boy was brought to their home, he was unconscious, being carried between Umi and Ayi, each with one of his arms slung around their shoulders. He was wrapped like an ancient mummy, swaddled bandages from head to toe. Umi had told them to go back to bed and carried the man to a guest room on the first floor. Once he was laid on the bed and tucked under the covers, Umi came back out, frowning when she saw them still huddled together at the bottom of the stairs.

“My loves, I believe I said to go back to bed.”

“He could be a threat,” Amirah argued, crossing her arms and frowning.

“What if the pits drove him mad? You and Ayi could have been in danger.” Damian said, copying his sister.

“Yes, my loves, those are both excellent points, but Ayi and I can defend ourselves, while you two have barely begun training. Come now, back to bed with you.” Amirah and Damain glanced at each other, before nodding to their mother and heading up the stairs to their shared bedroom.

The boy wouldn’t wake for two days, and when he did, he was scared, disoriented. His last real memory was his death, something painful and bloody. He had screamed when he awoke, thrashing and fighting when Ayi and Umi went in to restrain him so that he didn’t hurt himself. It took a week before he was calm enough to be allowed out of his room. When he wandered into the living room that first day out, he froze, clearly confused. Amirah looked over at him from where she was seated, smiling when she saw he was awake.

“Good morning, would you like something to eat?” She asked in English. Damian, seated across from her at the chessboard, moved a rook, and slapped the timer. Without looking Amirah sent out a pawn, slapped the timer again, and hopped up from her chair, ignoring Damian’s slight growl. “That’s checkmate, Dami. You know, it’s rude to not answer a question.” She said, heading towards the intercom on the wall.

“Um, yeah, food would be great.” He stammered, leaning heavily on the wall.” Amirah nodded, pressing the button that would alert the chefs that she needed something. “Someone will be here soon. Please, have a seat.” The boy stared at her, before slowly making his way towards a chaise lounge. He sat on the very edge of the seat, staring as Damian reset the board for another round. (The twins were required to play a dozen games every day, to develop tactical thinking.)

“Yes, Princess? You summoned?” A maid called from the doorway.

“Our guest needs something to eat and drink, something light, and my brother and I want lunch if possible. What’s on the menu for today?” Amirah asked, maintaining a polite tone.

“I can have something light and a glass of water sent up for your guest immediately. And your mother ordered a special treat prepared for lunch for you and the Prince, manakeesh, and grilled halloumi. It should be ready in roughly ten minutes. Would you like the food all brought up at once?”

“Yes, and a pitcher of American lemonade as well. That will be all.”

“Yes, Princess.” The maid murmured, dipping into a steep curtsey and making her way out of the parlor.

“So, uh, where am I?” The boy asked, looking around the room.

“You are in a hidden compound in the Sahara. We are Amirah and Damian Al Ghul, the grandchildren and heirs of Ra’s Al Ghul. You were brought here to train.” Amirah glided back across the room, her loose linen pants swishing around her ankles. Sitting down, she moved a pawn and tapped the timer.

“I…I was _dead_. He beat me to a pulp and blew up the building.”

“Tch. That was the past, all that matters now is training. Umi and Ayi will start you with us, and slowly escalate your training until you can keep up with others your age.” Damian scowled when Amirah smirked whenever he reached for a piece. (While Amirah was the better tactician, Damian was a better swordsman. Amirah, however, was more acrobatically inclined, and Damian was better at hand-to-hand. In a fair fight, they were almost perfectly matched.)

“Umi? Ayi? I have no idea what those words mean.” The boy huffed.

“’ Umi’ is Arabic for ‘mother’, and ‘Ayi’ is Chinese, meaning ‘auntie’. Our mother will be your primary trainer, with Ayi assisting here and there.” Amirah sighed, clearly frustrated with his lack of understanding. There was a knock at the door, and the twins turned in unison to see a maid pushing a cart covered in silver domed trays.

“Lunch is served, your majesties. I have also brought the requested items for your guest.”

“Very well. Take it to the sunroom, we’ll be there shortly.” Amirah waved the maid away, packing away her chess pieces. Damian began doing the same, and muttered to his sister in a language that the boy wouldn’t understand. Very few American’s understood Arabic, after all.

“ _This boy is a fool.”_

 _“Yes, but he was also taken in by father, whoever that may be. Besides, Umi sees promise in him.”_ Amirah sighed. “ _I don’t like it either, but we’re stuck with him.”_ The twins, once their pieces were tucked in the drawers attached to the table, stood together, grabbed the other’s hand, and made their way to the door. At the doorway, they paused, looking back at the boy.

“You need to follow us.” Damain sighed.

“Umi wants us to show you around,” Amirah explained, frowning when the boy hesitated. “You either follow us or stay here and go hungry. It’s your choice.” The boy stood and slowly followed after them.

X0X0X

The sunroom was a large, glass-enclosed balcony that looked out over the central gardens, which were lush and heavy with fruits. A few servants were tending to the plants, smiling and waving at the young children when they saw them up on the balcony. Amirah and Damian took seats across from each other at a small table shaped like a hexagon, gesturing for him to set between them. Cautiously, he did, and the twins clapped in unison, startling him a bit. Doors on each end of the room opened, and a line of servants came forth, setting the table around the children and teen. The children were each presented with a plate of what looked something like pizza, a glass of lemonade, and a smaller plate of something white with grill marks on it. Jason, on the other hand, was given a bowl of thin-looking soup and a piece of flatbread, and a glass of water. The food the twins were having smelled amazing, but what he was given was still enough to make his mouth water. He suddenly realized that he was painfully hungry, in a way he hadn’t been in some time, not since before Bruce had taken him in. However, he knew better than to gorge himself, and instead began to slowly eat the soup spoonful by spoonful.

X0X0X

Amirah watched as the boy began to eat, slowly and with decent enough table manners. He would likely do well in training, based on his caution and build. He was muscular, a bit lean, but a few months of training would do him good. Grabbing a knife, she carefully cut up her food, taking small, delicate bites as befitting a lady of her status. Yes, the young man would do well at the League. And maybe they could finally get some answers about their father…

X0X0X

By the time the twins turned six two months after Jason arrived, the three were inseparable. Damian and Jason loved to bicker, while Jason doted on Amirah, calling her ‘princess’ more often than her actual name.

By the time they were seven, Jason was their official bodyguard. He went everywhere with them, training with them, and ensuring they were safe. He even called Sabine ‘Auntie’, though Talia was always referred to by name.

A week before the twins turned eight, Jason was sent on a mission. He promised to come back for their birthday gala, an important event. Ayi Sabine would be the one guarding them until he returned. He never did. Amirah developed a deep hatred for liars. After all, her big brother Jayson couldn’t be stopped by anything, meaning he had broken his promise on purpose. Damian developed a strong hatred for the young man when he saw his baby sister struggling not to cry a week after Jason said he would be home. Amirah _never_ cried, not when she was hurt, not when Ayi Sabine nearly died after stopping a would-be killer, not even when Grandfather ordered her pets killed for making her weak. If he ever saw the man again, he would kill him, that he swore.


	3. Chapter Two

The next two years were hard. They trained harder and began to go on missions with Umi or Ayi Sabine. They began to receive different training as well, including seduction for both of them, while Amirah was given more lessons on diplomacy and Damian was taught to delegate tasks. They began to see less and less of each other, eventually only seeing each other in passing. They would still sit in the hallway at night, chatting and holding each other’s hands, trying not to think of how each day could be their last.

Then, on their tenth birthday, they were given a whole day together. They had hidden in the gardens, curled around each other, and staring at the sky. They stayed there, in a small nook of paradise, until they heard Talia calling for them.

“My loves! Your Grandfather wishes to see you!” She called into the garden. The twins stiffened, shooting each other scared looks. There had been whisperings in the compound of a duel, a final fight. Amirah had put the pieces together. Damian hadn’t.

They exited the gardens, once more assuming the masks of ice-hearted assassins.

“There you are! Come, hurry to your rooms and get changed, you are late for training.”

“Yes, Mother.” They said in unison, sharing one last glance as they darted to their rooms.

X0X0X

They met in the throne room, with Grandfather sitting in his throne. There was a chest on each side of the room, and an attendant stood by each chest. The twins shot each other a glance, before kneeling before Ra’s.

“My heirs. I have summoned you here today for one specific purpose. You will duel, and the winner shall be named my sole heir. You may choose your weapons and assume the proper stances. The duel will begin in thirty seconds. Go.” Talia, seated on the floor beside her father’s throne, was tense, staring at them with something akin to fear in her eyes.

Amirah raced for a chest as her brother raced for the other, flinging it open to see a set of swords, a few knives, and a mace. Grabbing the knives and sliding them into various holsters strapped to her arms and legs, Amirah also grabbed the two swords and shut the trunk. She stood just as the timer dinged down to ten seconds, and whirled around to march to her place. Settling into her stance, one sword on guard and the other primed to attack, she waited until the timer beeped before bringing her swords up into a block, right as Damian slammed both katanas towards her face. Stepping back, Amirah, dropped her swords, and fell to her knees, bowing her head.

“I yield.” She murmured, making the watching League members gasp.

“Are you certain, granddaughter?” Ra’s asked, staring at her.

_ ‘For Damian?  _ **_Yes._ ** _ ’  _ Amirah thought

“I yield!” She shouted through gritted teeth.

“Very well.” Ra’s drawled, gesturing sharply at her. “Talia, deal with her. Burn the body.” Something cold seized in Amirah’s chest. This was it. She was going to die. With her body destroyed, not even the pits could save her.

“What?!” Damian yelled. “Mother, what is happening?” He asked, marching over to his sister and trying to drag her to her feet. Amirah shook off his hand, slowly standing.

“There cannot be any contention over who is to be heir, Damian. I love you.” She said, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and hugging him tight. “Be safe,” Amirah said, voice cracking. He barely had time to wrap his arms around her before she was being ripped from his arms. She let out a yelp when one of Grandfather’s guards grabbed her by the back of her neck, dragging her to the side door where her mother was waiting. Staring back at her brother, who was being held back by another pair of guards as he thrashed and fought, desperately fighting to get to her, she knew she needed to do one last thing for him. Swallowing her tears and smiling at him, she cried one last time ‘I love you, brother!’, before being flung through the door.

X0X0X

It was his fault. It was all his fault. Had he been stronger, or smarter, a better brother, she would still be alive. He didn’t even get to say goodbye!

“My love, please.” Talia murmured, sitting down beside her son. He was in the garden, the last place he had been at peace with his sister, staring at the sky and trying not to scream and curse and weep.

“It’s my  _ fault _ !” He roared. “I was weak! I was weak and she’s dead because of me!” Talia glanced back at where the magic-user she had summoned was waiting.

“I can make the pain stop, my love, if that is what you wish.”

“Nothing will make the pain go away. Not unless she comes back to us.” He whispered, clutching at his chest.”

“I have a way, my love. Simply close your eyes, and relax.” She murmured to him, gesturing to the sorcerer, who approached silently, raising glowing hands to frame Damian’s face. “For what little it is worth, my son, I am sorry.” The sorcerer clamped her hands onto her son’s temples, making the boy convulse for a moment, before collapsing.

“It is done, Madam. He will have no memory of her, instead, he will only know you and his Grandfather.”

“Good. And he will not remember today’s duel?”

“He will think it was with one of your father’s generals, as I said, no memory of her.” The woman said, folding her arms in front of her. “If that is all, I will take my leave.” Bowing, the sorcerer turned to leave, only to collapse moments later. Talia slowly lowered her smoking gun, stuffing it into its holster as she scooped her son into her arms. He would awake in the morning in his bed, wondering why his heart ached, or why every night he would sit in the hall until dawn, waiting on someone who would never come. 


	4. Chapter 4

Amirah grunted when the guard threw her onto the floor and slammed the door. Her mother was sitting there in a chair at a small table for two, with a tea service set out for two.

“Mother?” Amirah asked, standing slowly.

“Come sit, love. We have much to discuss.” Talia said, slowly stirring her tea.

“Are we saying goodbye? If so, can I please see Damian one last time?” She asked, looking around the room.

“No, Amirah. Have a seat.” As Amirah sat in the unoccupied chair, she glanced around. The room was small, probably used for holding prisoners if the bars on the windows were any indication. “You aren’t going to die, Amirah.” Talia said, setting down her cup and saucer, staring the ten year old in the eye. Amirah raised an eyebrow, confused. “You are being sent out of the League. You and your Ayi Sabine will be living in Paris, under civilian names. You will be magically bound so that you cannot speak of your past here, or of your memories of anything important. You will not see your brother again unless your Grandfather allows it. He must focus on his training. You make each other weak. By this time tomorrow he will not remember that you exist. Am I clear?”

“I…” Never see Damian again? Not even be able to talk to him? Being sent away from the place and people she called home? Right as she began to protest, she considered the alternative. Killed with no mercy, her body burned and bones buried in an unmarked grave… “I understand, Mother.”

X0X0X

The plane left within an hour. Her skin was painfully sensitive from the brand that had been pressed against her nape, binding her to silence. Ayi Sabine was seated beside her, gently stroking her long black hair as silent tears poured from her eyes. Whether they were from pain or grief, she would never say.

They landed in Paris the next morning. The man flying the plane, one of the League’s heavy hitters, would be posing as her father, Tom Dupain. She would be known as Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and auntie would be keeping her name.

They moved to a small apartment over a bakery that was owned by the League. She would have her own room, and the basement was large enough to practice her fighting in. Ayi Sabine and Tom would be acting as her parents, and she was expected to just…live normally. Considering she had killed someone for the first time at age six, that would be pretty damn hard.

X0X0X

They had been living in Paris as a ‘family’ for almost a year now, and she was miserable. There was no missions, no routine beyond waking up and doing online classes, and worst of all, no big brother to speak to, to confide in. She had started taking online classes, which were apparently ‘age appropriate’. However, Amirah (Because that’s who she was, not Marinette, not a normal child) had been taught from age five by people who spoke a dozen languages each. So fractions? Not really a struggle. Recently, Ayi Sabine (She had to call her ‘Maman’ in public. Amirah hated it.) had been pushing her more and more to spend time with others her age. The issue was, Amirah  _ had _ had a friend her age, Damian. And then they had been ripped apart, and were now probably would never see each other again. So yeah, she had issues getting close to others. They were all sitting down for dinner one night, a simpler meal than she was used to, when Ayi Sabine cleared her throat.

“Marinette, dear,” Amirah twitched. “You’ve been living in Paris for almost a year, and we,” Sabine grabbed Tom’s hand. “think it’s time you left the house a bit more.”

“Why? There’s no need, I am completing my lessons to perfection, and I help in the bakery. There’s no point.”

“Marinette, what your mother –” Amirah twitched again. Ayi Sabine was  _ not  _ her mother, and never would be. “is saying, is that you’re starting school in a week. You’ve been enrolled in the local ecole, and you’re being allowed to skip a grade.”

“WHAT?!” Amirah yelled. “I am  _ not _ going to go to some stupid school and mingle with those who are bellow me! I am Amirah Al Ghul! I am –” Right as she began to rant, she screeched in pain, clutching the back of her neck, where the brand was glowing white hot as if fresh.

“Now, Marinette, you know you can’t talk about that.” Sabine sighed, setting down her knife and fork. Amirah, still laying on the floor, growled as she sat up, glaring at the two still seated.

“I’m not hungry.” She said, standing and making her way to the trapdoor that led to her room. It wasn’t until the trapdoor had slammed shut behind her that she grabbed a pillow and screamed into it, venting all her pent up rage. Flopping onto her chaise, she yanked her hair out of the stupid pigtails she had been forced to keep it in and braided it back tightly. May as well go for a run.

X0X0X

The moon hung in the sky like a perfect pearl, shining benevolently down on the city of Paris. Amirah stood on the balcony railing, glaring at the horizon. Taking one last breath, she began to scurry down the ivy that grew up the side of the building, careful to avoid windows. She let herself drop the last five feet or so, careful not to fuck up her ankles as she landed.

Pulling her hood higher over her head (It wasn’t black, Ayi insisted that she wear colorful clothes twenty-four-seven) and adjusting her sneakers. They were a painful shade of pink, but at least they didn’t light up.

Ducking out of the alleyway, she began to jog slowly, making her way down the streets. Slowly, she picked up speed, until she was running full tilt, feet pounding pavement as she let the tears run down her face. This was the worst thing that could happen. She wasn’t a normal child, nor would she ever be. She was a ruthless, cold blooded, manipulative murderer. And worst of all? She was alone.

X0X0X

A week went by quickly, and Amirah groaned as she woke with the sun on the day she would be starting at the dreaded school. It was only a block away, but she would be arriving early so that Ayi could handle some paperwork and so that she could receive a tour. Not like she would need it, seeing as she had already memorized maps of the school, but still. Rolling out of bed and landing on the floor, Amirah began her morning workout, thinking as she did her pushups. There was no possible way to put a positive spin on this. She was going to be stuck surrounded by foolish children, and all she would be able to do was grin and bear it. God, what she wouldn’t give to have Damian here with her. He was always braver, more confident. She had been born with terrible social anxiety that the League had mostly trained out of her, but it had spiked ever since she had been sent away. Damian had been her island in a sea of insanity, and now she felt like she was drowning.

“Marinette?” Someone called, and Amirah leapt up, startled, only to see Ayi Sabine standing halfway into her room, smiling at her. “Can we talk?”

“I haven’t a choice, but I suppose so,” Amirah said, sitting down on her chaise. Ayi Sabine sighed.

“Dear, I know this isn’t what you wanted out of life, but it’s for the best. Maybe if you think of life here in Paris as a sort of infiltration mission, that will make things easier. I just want what’s best for you, Marinette.” That…wasn’t actually too stupid. She had always been good at infiltration missions, her innocent looks making suspicion slide off of her like water off a duck’s back. Yes, that might just work….


	5. Chapter 5

Amirah stared at the school in front of her. It was a wide, squat building, made of plain tan bricks. It looked like any public school, and wasn’t that a slap to the face. Either way, this was her turf now, and she was gonna have to blend in. Making her way to the office behind Ayi Sabine, she glanced around. The school was just as bland inside, with basic plain walls and ugly tiled floors. It was nothing like the places she called home, with soaring ceilings, beautiful mosaics on the walls, and carpets so plush that she could have fallen asleep on them. Instead, she was going to be forced to sit at some stupid desk surrounded by idiots.

When they entered the office, a pale woman with mousy brown hair looked up at them with a fake smile.

“Hello! You must be Sabine and Marinette! It’s lovely to meet you both. Missus Cheng, if you can follow me there’s some paperwork for you to fill out. Marinette, you can wait out here, one of your new classmates will be along to give you a tour and show you to class in a minute.” The woman lead Ayi into a small side room, and Amirah was left standing on her own. This was going to be hell, being disregarded as no more than a mere child. After a few minutes, the door swung open, admitting a blonde girl dressed an expensive outfit that burned Amira’s eyes. That shade of yellow was painful to look at, and all the white on the girl’s outfit made her fake tan look even more orange than it was.

“So, _you’re_ the new student.” The girl sniffed. “I am _the_ Chloe Bourgeois, daughter of Andre and Audrey Bourgeois. I am the queen bee of this school, and _you_ are the bottom of the food chain. Get it?” Amara scoffed. This girl thought she was a big deal, and in her territory, she probably was. However, Paris now belonged to Amirah, and she was _far_ more ruthless than some politician’s brat.

“I’m sorry, are you serious? Cause I’m _not_ someone you want on your bad side.” Amirah sneered. “Trust me, Bourgeois, I am _far_ more lethal than you could _ever_ even _hope_ to be.” She said, glaring and angling her head back so that she was looking down her nose at the shorter girl. Amirah had a good three inches on the other girl, and the blonde growled.

“You are ridiculous, _utterly ridiculous!_ ” Bourgeois screeched, but with the way the hair on her arms was standing straight up she was more than a little intimidated.

“Whatever you say. Now, are you going to show me to class or not?” Amirah asked, breezing past the shorter girl.

“Ugh! Fine, but only because I need to go there anyway!” Watching as the native Parisian marched away, Amirah smirked. This was going to be _fun_. The walk to the room was short, and the blonde remained angry, slamming open the door so hard it bounced off the wall. The teacher looked over at her with a benevolent smile, setting her chalk (What was this, the eighties?) down and clasping her hands together.

“Hello! You must be Marinette! Welcome to my class, I’m mademoiselle Bustier, it’s wonderful to have you here!” Time for her new role…

“Hello! My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng! It’s lovely to meet you all!” Amirah said, beaming at the class. She heard Bourgeois splutter, and tried not to smirk.

“Everyone, please introduce yourselves. Nino, why don’t you go first?” The teacher smiled at a boy at the back of the room, who had just pulled off a pair of headphones.

“Yo, what’s up, dudette! I’m Nino Lahiffe! I’m a DJ in the making, and I like to chill at the park.” The boy said, and Amirah sneered internally. Such uncouth language. The class continued to introduce themselves, and her disdain only grew. These were _children_ , she didn’t belong amongst them. Still, she had an act to keep up.

“It’s nice to meet you all! I hope we can all be friends!” She said, mentally cheering at the constipated look on Bourgeois’ face. This might turn out to be fun.


	6. Chapter 6

Amirah awoke to the sound of her alarm with a groan, pressing her face into her pillow. It had been two and a half years since she had left the league, and honestly? The only really bad part was that she missed her brother  _ desperately _ . (She had kept an eye on the news, and Damian was apparently living with their father now. His name was Bruce Wayne, the richest man on earth behind Lex Luthor, and, according to her investigations, the Batman. She could see why Ayi and Grandfather had chosen the man to be their sire, he was strong, intelligent, capable, and wealthy. Altogether, he would have made an excellent member of the League.)

Currently, it was about five fifteen in the morning, time for her to get up and help Ayi Sabine and Tom get the bakery running. They had already been up for an hour at this point, preparing doughs and batters and frostings. They would be opening the front of the bakery in about half an hour, leaving her to run the back until she left for school. Lately, school had been far more interesting than it had been for the last two years. She’d been forced to keep up the act of the precious little angel for almost a year and a half, and then someone  _ interesting _ had come along. She had always known her classmates were weaklings, foolish and naïve to the ways of the world. Then, a challenger had come along. Lila Rossi, daughter of an Italian Ambassador. The girl had wits; she’d admit that much. However, with her training, she had been able to detect the faint aura of magic surrounding the girl. After all, not even the most naïve person on the planet could have fallen for the girl’s lies naturally. Honestly,  _ saving a cat from a runway? _ What utter hogwash. Scoffing, Amara smiled slightly at the sight of the miracle box tucked safely away in her closet as she grabbed a jacket. They might not have wanted her at the league, but she had made her own way. She was better now, stronger, even if she was struggling sometimes.

About three months ago, another new student had shown up at school, Felix Graham de Vanilly, the cousin of her idiot classmate Adrien. And this one? He was  **fun** . Snarky, cruel, with biting humor and a cold demeanor. They’d spent about a week and a half tossing snappy comments back and forth before she caught the small cat-like being she recognized as a kwami (Grandfather had wanted to find the miraculous and steal them. What she wouldn’t  _ give  _ to see his face if he realized she wielded a miraculous now.) slipping from his bag. She had spoken to the small being, who turned out to be the black cat kwami of destruction, who’s name was Plagg. He had convinced her to follow him (He said it was either that or wipe her memories, which he couldn’t guarantee would go well, and Amirah would be  _ damned _ if she lost her memories of Damian.) and lead her to a small massage parlor, where she had spoken with the last surviving member of the Order of Guardians.

The man had struck a deal with her. She would wield the tiger miraculous of Passion, and he would train her to be the next Grand Guardian. Amirah saw nothing bad in this for her, so she had agreed. Currently, she wore a plain golden choker with a circular charm hanging from the middle with golden spokes emerging from the center dividing the charm into five wedges. It was the present form of the tiger, and the home of her dear Kwami, Roarr, who was currently curled up under a small heat lamp in the corner of her desk, snoring slightly on a pile of fabric scraps Amirah had made into a bed for the small deity.

“Roarr.” She crooned. “Time to wake up, dear.” Roarr stretched, yawning and revealing minuscule fangs that were sharper than the needles on her sewing machine, and gleamed in the light.

“Good morning, dear cub,” Roarr grumbled, floating over to the small baggie of jerky Amirah kept beside the computer for them. As the kwami scarfed down a few pieces, Amirah brushed out and styled her hair, deciding to be nostalgic. She carefully parted her hair and styled it into a tight pair of braids, before wrapping them around her head, looking like a circlet. Jason had called them her tiara; said they made her look like a princess. With a sad smile, she spritzed hair spray over the braids to hold them in place, before snagging a small leather purse she’d made a few months ago as a practice piece (leather was  _ hard  _ to work with) and opened the top, gesturing for Roarr to duck inside as she made her way down her stairs. The kwami dropped their jerky with a sigh, and zipped into the purse, curling up in a side pocket.

As she stepped into the kitchens, Amirah sucked in a deep breath, smiling at the smell of fresh bread and sweets. Setting her purse next to a row of ovens so it would stay warm (Roarr loved being warm, said it reminded them of days in the deserts with past holders.) she rolled up the sleeves of her blouse and grabbed a pair of oven mitts right as the timer on oven three went off. Pulling out the tray of sugar cookies, she smiled. They were shaped like little Christmas trees, seeing as the big day was only a few weeks away. Amirah had never truly celebrated as a child, but she had some fondness for the day. She loved the bright colors, the sweet smells filling the air, the sounds of carols echoing in the night. Humming a small song to herself, she slid the cookies onto a cooling rack, smiling as she deftly separated them from the tray.

Some time passed like that, with Amirah singing quietly as she baked and frosted and assembled. Eventually, the clock struck eighty forty-five, and Amirah decided to be somewhat on time for once. Grabbing her purse and a few pain au chocolate, she made her way out through the front, nodding to Tom and Ayi Sabine as she walked out the door, shivering at the chill in the air and the snowflakes that rapidly dusted her jacket. She waited at the crosswalk, checking her phone for any important news updates that might indicate the movements of the league. There was nothing special, Wayne Enterprises was teasing some new event, probably another charity gala. Honestly, they seemed to have one every month. When the crosswalk light changed, she tucked her phone in her pocket and hurried across, smiling when she saw Felix waiting up ahead, leaning against the banister to the stairs into the building. Jogging forward, she kept her footsteps silent as she approached. He was on the phone with someone, likely his mother, as he was chatting in English. She didn’t bother listening in, she trusted him with his privacy. Tossing her arm around his neck, she pressed a kiss to his cheek and giggled at the slight yelp he let out.

“Salut,  _ Mahbub _ .” She chuckled, stepping back.

“I’ll call you back later.” He grumbled into his phone, stuffing it in his pocket. “Hullo, darling. Must you always startle me so?” He sighed, pecking her on the cheek. She glimpsed Plagg ducking into her purse from the corner of Felix’s coat and smiled a bit.

“I have to keep you on your toes somehow.” She chirped, entwining their fingers. It was a bit awkward with their gloves, but she loved to hold his hand. Taking the steps together, she pushed down the thought that the only other person she had held hands with would never see her again, she tried to focus on the now. After all, she had a kingdom to reclaim. She thought darkly as she glared at Lila. Some witch would not take two years of work from her. 


	7. Chapter 7

Damian was lying in his bed, the curtains drawn, glaring at his canopy. For the last few months, he’d been having terrible nightmares, of someone screaming his name, something being taken, an _indescribable_ feeling of loss and heartbreak, followed by a headache whenever he awoke. These dreams made no sense, seeing as he had never felt these things, so he hadn’t the faintest of ideas where this was _coming_ from. One of father's brats that he had reconciled with (Apparently the stray had faked being dead for several years) was moving into the manor later this month, which angered him to no small degree. _He_ was the one and only blood heir (At the thought, another stabbing pain went through his skull, but in his fury he ignored it), and his training ensured he was _perfect_ for his role, so why did father _insist_ on taking in these filthy mutts?! Grayson was tolerable, if too kind. Drake was an insomniac, but he was also a decent detective. Whoever this mutt was, there was no way that he would be up to Damian’s standards.

Growling at the pain in his head (Pennyworth had offered painkillers, but Damian had been taught never to take them. They induced drowsiness and lethargy. They may have been able to reduce the agony he was in, but weakness was unacceptable.) He slammed his fist into the pillows. He wanted… _something_ , _anything_ , to make the pain in his head (And the pain in his heart, the pain he had attributed to his father’s rejection and his mother’s absence, the pain that worsened after every nightmare.) **stop** , to make it even pause for a moment. Groaning, he flipped the pillow to the cooler side and fell back against it. Whoever this _Jason Todd_ was, he already despised him.

X0X0X

Amirah hummed as she worked on her English essay. She had developed a fondness for certain music types. Jazz was smooth and silky and made her think of Jason. Rock was steady and hard and fast, and reminded her of training with Damian, the sound of staffs smashing together, of heavy breathing and hidden laughter whenever the other made an odd face or noise after getting hit. Classical (Especially Tchaikovsky) made her think of Umi. Delicate and graceful, but building up to a heavy hit or terrible blow against those that incurred her rising anger. Currently, she was humming along to a song by one of her clients, Jagged Stone, featuring a heavy bass solo that just made her brain _tingle,_ happy and joyous, like something deep in her soul was overjoyed by the deep, rich notes. Roarr said it was because one of their earlier wielders, back in the nineteen-fifties, had _adored_ bass guitar, and played the way Amirah trained. (They had discovered that, seeing as Roarr was technically imprinted directly to Amirah’s soul, they could discuss Amirah’s life before Paris, before the separation, without her curse scar hurting her) The two had stayed up many nights, chatting about her family – mainly Damian – and her training (Never the bad parts, she would hate to worry Roar).

Amirah had been shocked to learn that she had the skills previous holders were most passionate about. She could apparently weave on a loom because a previous holder in the fifteen-eighties loved it so much, and the one time she had picked up a guitar at Luka’s invitation, she had been stunned to realize she knew every note and chord. She’d strummed clumsily before something like muscle memory took over and she played an old rock song Luka had barely recognized. He was luckily in the same boat, because some snake wielder in the eighties had loved to breakdance, and he had caught himself dancing to a song on his radio a few days before without thinking. Amirah had started saving her pitiful allowance for a guitar of her own, she’d found the idea of creating music delightful, and found a small music shop a few blocks from the bakery that had a lovely blood red bass for sale at a reasonable price. It would take a few weeks, but she would be able to buy it soon enough.

Entering the cafeteria, she adjusted her bag on her shoulder, spotting Felix seated with Kagami and her girlfriend, A’dab, a sweet Muslim girl who’s family was from northern Iraq. She and Amirah often gossiped in Arabic, just to antagonize their partners. Their usual table had only three chairs today, meaning someone had likely stolen the fourth for their own table. This happened sometimes, and usually Amirah would just grab a chair from another table, but they were all occupied today. How odd.

“Hullo, love,” Felix called, smiling as she approached.

“Hello, _Mahbub._ ” Amirah set her bag on the table, before sitting sideways in Felix’s lap. This worked just as well as stealing a chair, _and_ it meant she got cuddled. Altogether, this was a brilliant idea. Maybe she’d do this more often…

X0X0X

He hummed as he wiped blood off his knives, smiling at the picture in the frame on his dresser. It showed a small pair of children, one grumpy, the other one serious, as they stood on each side of a young man with black and white hair. That had been the best time in his life, being with the Brat and Princess. From what he had seen, the Brat was with Bruce, and Princess was probably still with the league. It made sense since Princess was a better fighter and the league wouldn’t have kept around a spare, but would have been hesitant to dispose of someone that could be useful later. He still had a few pieces of scum to wipe out before he could go see brat (and then they would rescue Princess. God, she’d be, what, sixteen now?), and that would take most of a month. Still, he had promised he would be back, and he would see his little siblings soon. Yeah, Jason thought, soon.


	8. Chapter 8

Jason flung open the doors wide, hard enough that they bounced off the walls.

“HEY DICK!” He shouted, and there was a thud as his elder brother figure (and hadn’t it been a  _ hell  _ of a shock to learn Dicky-bird had hunted down and slaughtered Joker. The fact Jason had come back at all was because Dick had begged him to.) fell from the chandelier, landing on the stairs on his feet with a yelp.

“Jay-jay!” He cried, sliding down the banister. “You made it safe! How was your flight?!” Dick flung an arm around Jason’s shoulder, slapping his younger brother’s bicep a few times.

“Eh. There was this crying brat, nothing special.” Jason shrugged, trying not to shove Dick’s arm away. “So, where’s the demon spawn?” He asked, glancing around behind his sunglasses.

“Huh? Oh! You mean Damian! He’s in the cave, working a case. Ivy and Riddler teamed up for something, but we’re trying to figure it out. Wanna lend a hand?” The light in Dick’s eyes was too much for Jason to say ‘no’.

“Tch. May as well. Is, uh, is my old room still open?” He asked, feeling awkwardness creep upon him.

“Absolutely! No one has gone in except Alfred to dust!” Dick chirped. As if Jason had only been gone two weeks instead of almost eight years. As if he hadn’t gone against  _ everything _ they had been taught. And if his throat clogged up a little, and his eyes watered, well, no one would ever be able to tell.

“Then I’ll just drop my bags and be right down.” He said.

“Coolio! It’s good to have ya home, Jay-jay!” Dick said, smiling softly at his baby brother.

“It’s…well, it’s good to be back,” Jason grumbled, heading for the stairs.

X0X0X

The Akuma of the day was nothing special. Just Gigantitan again. So, when Amirah heard the Akuma alarm as she was getting ready, she had gently awoken Roarr as she stretched. The suit may prevent permanent injury, but she could still strain or sprain something. Once Roarr had devoured a small amount of jerky, Marinette called for her transformation. She’d been shocked to learn she could set her transformation phrase to whatever she wanted. She’d set it to a phrase from her favorite poet, William Blake.

“Roarr! Burn Bright!” She said, beaming as a fiery warmth washed over her, transforming her into Namrat Kabira, the Great Tigress. Her suit was not the vivid, bright colors of her partners, but the dark gear of the League with a few hints of color. She wore a pair of loose, flowing black and pink tiger-striped pants that were tucked tight into a pair of knee-high boots. Her belt doubled as a tail and part of her chest plate, which was made of something resembling wasp weave carbon fiber. Her shirt was skintight, in the same pattern and colors of her pants.

The ends of her sleeves wrapped around her middle fingers, and she had a pair of golden brass knuckles set in her gloves, which ended in wickedly sharp points made of some kind of metal. The colors on her choker inverted, making it mainly gold with hints of black. Her mask was the same material as her chest plate but was pure black with vivid pink lining around her eyes. At each side was a wickedly sharp shamshir, a type of Ottoman sword that she specialized in. She looked every inch the assassin she was, down to the cold gleam in her eyes.

She leaped in one smooth motion out of her open window (it had been a warm night), snarling at the sight of the giant infant. He was currently smashing two cars together, and she could hear the people in the car  _ screaming _ in fear, and likely pain based on how hard those cars were slamming together. She landed on a roof about a block away, crouching behind an AC unit. After a moment, her (favorite) fellow hero, Cat Noir, landed beside her. Beetle Bug was running late again, then. Probably a photoshoot (it took her all of two minutes after finding out Felix’s identity to figure out Adrien’s.) or a ‘date’ with Lila. As long as he was there to cast his cure, they would all be fine.

“You play distraction, I’ll handle the Akuma?” He proposed, and she smirked.

“Aww, you that eager to see me dance again?” She asked, pressing a hand to his chest.

“Tch. Just go.” He muttered, looking embarrassed. They had revealed their identities to each other weeks ago now. Their relationship as heroes was apparently incredibly popular online, and several people would approach them on patrol to ask some rather rude questions (Last week she had almost chucked someone across a road when they tried to grab her butt. She was clearly a child!)

“As you say, minou.” She giggled, slipping down the side of the building and rapidly jogging to the middle of the street.

“HEY!” She bellowed, making the giant turn towards her slowly. “Let’s play tag!” The young boy (he was almost three now) frowned for a moment before quickly toddling towards her. She turned tail (pardon her pun) and began to leap across the rooftops, bobbing and weaving wildly as she dodged the child’s massive hands. After a moment, the binkie was ripped from his mouth by a clawed hand as Cat leaped past.

Gigantitan let out a massive wail, and turned ready to grab Cat’s tail before Namrat slashed her claws along the back of his hand. With how large he was, she barely scratched him, but it was enough to draw his ire to her. He picked her up in a massive fist and shook her, making her clench her teeth as she was jerked back and forth through the air. She faintly heard Cat call for his power, and the next thing she knew she was plummeting through the air, something wrapped around her waist and  _ yanked,  _ and she was suddenly being set gently on her feet.

“Ya good, Namrat?” Beetle Bug asked, setting a hand on her shoulder.

“Urgh…” She groaned, setting a hand on her stomach where the Akuma's grip had been the tightest. “I’ll be fine, give me a minute.” Amirah panted a bit, bending over. “Cast the cure, please.” She moaned at the feeling of her rib stabbing into her lungs. Faintly, as her vision began to blackout, she heard the cure cast, before her lungs filled with air.

“Love!” Cat Noir cried, bounding over, his bell jingling. “Are you quite alright?” He asked, cradling her cheek and setting a hand on her waist.

“Fine,  _ Mahbub _ ,” Amirah reassured him, breathing deep. This was far from the worst injury she’d ever had. “Come on, the reporter is on her way.” She jerked her thumb in the direction of Alya, who was jogging over with a massive smile on her face.

“Beetle Bug! Cat Noir! Namrat Kabira!” She cried, and Namrat winced at the girl’s butchering of the Arabic. Honestly, the girl claimed to be the foremost expert on Parisian heroes, yet she couldn’t even pronounce her damn name!

“Er, I’m about to transform back! Gotta go!” Beetle stammered at the beeping of his earrings, and Felix merely turned around and leaped away with a flick of her tail. Namrat was about to do the same when Alya got close enough to grab her wrist. Growling, Namrat glanced down at the hand restraining her before glaring at the reporter.

“Release me.” She snarled, and the creole girl wavered for but a moment.

“I  _ need _ a new interview with one of you! My blog ratings are  _ way _ down lately!” She whined, tightening her grip.

“Allow me to rephrase. Release me, or I will  _ make _ you release me.” She bared her fangs, freehand flexing so that her claws caught the light of the rising sun.

“You can’t threaten me!” Cesaire snapped. “You’re a  _ hero _ .”

“No. I am not a hero, as I have told you  _ every time you demand an interview _ .” She sighed, circling her arm in a way that made Cesaire instantly drop her wrist with a yelp as her own was forced into a painful position. “I am merely someone who must do her duty to the miraculous. Touch me again, and you will be punished most severely.” Leveling the reporter with one last glare, she crouched and leaped, making her way across the rooftops back to the bakery. She didn’t have the time to put up with some vapid cunt today. After all, Mademoiselle Bustier had said there was something important happening today. 


	9. Chapter 9

Amirah ducked into the classroom at the same time as Adrien and Felix, mere moments before the bell rang. Mademoiselle Bustier shut and locked the door, and turned to face the class. 

“Children, I have some wonderful news!” She chirped, clapping her hands to grab their attention. Everyone quieted down, looking up from their various conversations. “Thanks to a wonderful essay written by our current class president, Chloe, we have been invited to tour the French Branch of Wayne Enterprises, of the Wayne Conglomeration! The tour will be in two weeks, on Wednesday the eighteenth. Your legal guardian will need to fill out the papers I’ll be leaving on the front desk, please grab one on your way out at the end of class. Today, we’ll be discussing the life and works of Oscar Wilde, a famous British-American poet. Please open your books to page forty-eight, and prepare to take notes.”

Amirah tried not to scream. Just. Her. Luck. 

X0X0X

Dick jogged down the steps to the Batcave, smiling when he heard the sounds of Damian and Tim debating something about the case. 

“Hey! Guys!” He called, making his way to where the two were sparring on the mat (no weapons, hand-to-hand only) as they bickered. “We have someone coming down soon!”

“Tch, Kyle again?” Damian scoffed, dodging a high kick from Tim. 

“Nope! It’s someone you haven’t met yet, this is-” 

“Sup, Demon Spawn!” Jason called from the bottom of the steps. “How ya been?” With his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, Jason strolled over, smirking. 

“You must be Todd. Don’t get in my way.” Damian snarled, turning to march away. 

“C’mon, Spawn, that’s no way to greet Princess’s favorite!” He crowed, smirking. 

“Uh, who’s Princess?” Tim asked, looking between the frozen Damian and the still smirking Jason. 

“Aw, c’mon, Spawn! Go ahead and tell ‘em!” 

“Todd, have you been struck on the head? I haven’t a clue what you’re babbling about.” Damian snapped over his shoulder, before stalking over to the Batcomputer. 

“Uh, what? Demon Spawn, don’t joke like that! You’ll break your poor sister’s heart.” Jason’s voice was slightly strained. 

“I don’t _have_ a sister, you fool. Grayson, are you _certain_ this one is sane?” Damian slid into the main chair, tapping at the keyboard to wake up the monitor. “He’s giving me a terrible headache with his ramblings.”

“This ain’t funny, brat, give up the joke,” Jason said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“It’s no joke, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” The youngest robin quickly pulled up Jason’s file, looking it over. “Huh, no history of delusions.” He muttered. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to lie – ARGH!” Damian stood from the control panel and began to make his way to the stairs, before collapsing, clutching at his head.

“Dick, keep an eye on Demon Spawn. I need to call the old magic contacts and have Replacement set up the MRI. Someone fucked with Demon Spawn’s memories.” Jason snarled, watching as Tim ran to Damian, kneeling beside him and setting a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder, moments before the boy fainted fully.

“Jay-bird, what’s going on?!” Dick asked, concern evident in his voice, running to Damian and checking his pulse, sighing when he found it strong, if off-beat a bit.

“Princess is in trouble, and we’re gonna save her!” Jason declared, running for the stairs. 

“BRUCE!” He yelled, flinging open the clock-door. “BRUCE! ALFRED!” He called, skidding around the corner to the entryway, where Alfred was taking Bruce’s coat. 

“Young master Jason!” Alfred declared. “What on _Earth_ is wrong?” The older man quickly tucked Bruce’s coat into the closet, before approaching Jason, who shrugged him off.

“Amirah is in danger; I need your help to save her. I gotta call someone who can do a tracking spell. I tried to talk to Damian about her and he fucking collapsed. He’s fine, Dickie and Replacement are helping him.” He panted. 

“Who is Amirah?” Bruce asked. 

“Not important right now, get your ass suited up!” He snapped. “Someone fucked with Demon Spawn’s memories! He can’t even remember Princess! For fucks sake, if you have _any_ paternal instincts, get your ass in motion!” Bruce paused, before nodding, booking it for the Batcave. 

“Young Master Jason, would you like a glass of water?” Alfred asked, ever unflappable. 

.“That’d be great, Alfred. We’re also gonna need to prep a room. You’re gonna love Princess, that I promise.” Jason said, whipping out his phone to start calling in those who might be able to help. Artemis may hate his guts, but she’d be able to help, and while he and Zatana didn’t talk much anymore, they’d been… _close_ for a period. He and Constantine often butted heads, but if he called in a few favors John might be able to do something. Bruce would have better luck with the Brit.

“As you say, sir.” Jason caught his breath, before standing up and turning to head back to the cave. He would find her. Fuck, this was his fault! If he’d gone back for the twins sooner… _fuck!_ He would save her. He would make this _right_. For now, he needed to interrogate Demon Spawn.

X0X0X

As Damian came to, he groaned, rapidly assessing his surroundings. Drake was sitting off to the side, looking over a read-out from an MRI with concern. Grayson was on the other side of Damian’s bed, leaning his head against the mattress as he held Damian’s hand. Father was seated at the computer, video chatting with a blond man in a trench coat with a heavy British accent. Pennyworth wasn’t in sight, but Todd was, sitting at a laptop and talking into his phone.

“Little D!” Grayson shouted, sitting up and pressing a hand to Damian’s shoulder when he tried to sit up.

“What happened? The last I recall, Todd was prattling about some Princess and insisting I have a sister…” He gratefully accepted the glass of water he was handed, sipping slowly. Grayson looked markedly uncomfortable, clearing his throat and looking away.

“Demon Spawn!” Todd shouted across the cave, covering his phone speaker for a moment. “Good to see you awake. We ran an MRI while you were out. Replacement,” He said, gesturing over to Drake. “explain to Demon Spawn what happened, I gotta tell B that Spawn here is awake.” Drake nodded, checking Damian’s chart again.

“Well, the good news is you don’t have a tumor or anything. The bad news is, we picked up some kind of _heavy_ interference in the hippocampus, where long-term memory is kept. We _think_ someone laid a spell over your memories, but we need someone with experience in magic to help. Bats is calling in Constantine since Zatana is busy in LA and Doc Fate refused to help for some reason. Honestly, I dunno what’s going on, Jason refuses to explain until your memories are fixed.” Drake shrugged, helpless. Damian sucked his teeth and sat up, before attempting to stand, only to have Grayson restrain him.

“Until your head is fixed, you aren’t going _anywhere_.” He snapped. Damian opened his mouth to argue, only to be distracted when a swirling gray and gold portal appeared next to his father’s chair. Out walked the man who had just been on screen, who shuddered and adjusted the collar on his coat.

“Well, if it ain’t the whole damn family! Todd, I’d say it’s good to see you, but it really isn’t.” The Brit said, clapping his hand on Todd’s shoulder. “I see the youngest birdie is awake! That’s good, the spell can make people rather ill, and I’d hate to see him aspirate. Don’t believe we’ve met, kid. My name is John Constantine, and I’m the one who’s aboutta poke through your skull.” The man said, waving from across the cave. He was far too cheery, in Damian’s opinion.

“Look, Constantine, I get we don’t get along, but there’s an innocent involved. She’s a kid, only sixteen.” Todd sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“And why should I care?” Constantine snapped. “You fucked me over, Todd!”

“I am _well_ aware, Constantine, but my baby sister is in danger, and if you save her, you get a free favor from me in the future,” Jason said, offering his hand as if to shake.

“Deal.” Constantine agreed, ignoring Todd’s hand. “So, what _exactly_ do you think was done to the wee one?” He asked, and strode over to where Damian was seated on the bed still. The man did…something with his hands, and they began to glow. “Now, I’m gonna grab your head, you’re gonna scream a bit, and I’m gonna dive into your mind. You’ll pass out, I’ll go into a trance and lock up, after about a minute I’m gonna pop back out with the answer, and your big brother is gonna owe me a favor.” The wizard explained rapidly in a chipper tone, leaving Damian no time to process before his hands clamped tightly onto the sides of Damian’s head, his palms situated over his ears, before a blinding pressure began to build behind his eyes. It grew until Damian had to grit his teeth and screech in agony, it felt as if his skull would explode. Then, everything went dark.

X0X0X

Damian had a high pain tolerance. Dick knew this, he had learned of it when Damian had ripped his shoulder out of socked on patrol one night and merely popped it back in when the fight was over. So seeing his baby bird screech like a dying animal when Constantine cast the spell was…shocking, to say the least. Damian slumped after a second, and Constantine’s eyes went wide before a golden light began to pour from them as if someone had replaced his eyeballs with lightbulbs. Counting slowly to ten, Dick waited. And waited. And waited. After almost a full two minutes, Constantine’s eyes closed, he let go of a gasping Damian, and staggered backward, reaching up to clutch his head.

“Bloody buggering _fuck_ , mate!” He panted. “Whoever blocked your memories did a shite job, but they left a construct in there to guard it. Had to fight the thing without hitting anything important, but I managed. Memories should be rushing back right about –” Constantine was cut off by a massive crash, as Damian leaped off the hospital bed, ripped out his IV, and tackled Jason to the ground.

“YOU BASTARD!” He screamed, ripping a knife out of his boot and raising it above his head with both hands, as if preparing to stab Jason in the throat. “YOU BROKE HER HEART!” Damian plunged the dagger downwards, only to be ripped away by Dick, who held the struggling teen around the waist despite his squirming.

“Well, that worked!” Constantine chirped. “So, can I get an explanation, or am I gonna be left outta the loop on this one?”

“I’d like an explanation as well,” Batman said, standing from where he had been seated, watching the proceedings.

“I’M GOING TO SLAUGHTER YOU LIKE A _PIG_!” Damian bellowed, finally getting loose from Dick’s hold on him and lunging for Jason again.

“STAND DOWN!” Batman ordered, making his youngest freeze. “Damian, _explain_!”

“I…I have a twin… _had_ a twin…” He said quietly, before dropping his knife and collapsing to his knees.

“Baby bird, what do you mean _had_?” Dick asked, kneeling and resting a hand on his youngest brother’s shoulder.

“They…they killed her. And it’s my fault. We were meant to duel. The winner would become heir to the league. She figured it out before I did, or I wouldn’t be here. The loser…the loser was killed… _Amirah_ was killed, because she refused to fight me. She was stronger, she was _better._ So she forfeited. She…she’s gone.” He murmured, before flinging himself at Dick and wrapping his arms around him, weeping into his brother’s chest. The whole of the cave was silent for a few minutes before Jason spoke.

“No.” His tone was calm, cool, even.

“You think I would lie about this?!” Damian snapped. “SHE’S DEAD BECAUSE OF ME!” He screamed, standing and walked to Jason. “HAD YOU STAYED, YOU COULD HAVE TAKEN HER AND RUN! SHE WOULD STILL BE HERE!”

“I’m not saying you’re lying, Demon Spawn.” Jason rebutted. “I’m saying your mother and grandfather did. Like you said, Princess was a better fighter than you, even if her emotions made them think of her as weak. They wouldn’t have killed her; they would have tucked her away somewhere they could keep an eye on her so that if you ever defected they could still have a loyal heir. All we have to do is _find_ her.” Damian stood there, staring at the ground, processing.

“If you’re wrong,” Damian said slowly. “I will slaughter you.”

“If I’m wrong, I’ll let you.” Jason agreed.

“Constantine, can you cast a tracking spell?” Dick asked, walking over and setting a hand on Damian’s shoulder.

“Only if I have a globe and a picture of the person.” John shrugged.

“I keep a pic of the twins and I tucked in my helmet, here.” Jason grabbed the helmet from the table where he had left it and popped open a panel in the back, before pulling out a beat-up picture. It showed a younger Jason and two small children, each seated on his lap. The little girl on the right was smiling politely at the camera along with Jason, while the boy on the left scowled as if the photographer had said something stupid.

“Great! Now, I need a globe.” Constantine said, looking around.

“Ehem.” A voice called from off to the side, and they all turned to see Tim standing, holding a globe he had removed from the stand in its spot from the study upstairs.

“Perfect!” Constantine said, summoning it to him with a spell. “Now, let’s see where she is!” He took the picture and pressed it to his forehead, before pressing the globe to his lips. After a moment, the globed began to glow and hover, before rapidly expanding until almost ten feet in diameter. It turned slowly, and the glow began to condense before the thing suddenly and rapidly shrunk down to its original size and dropped to the floor.

“What…was that?” Dick asked.

“Huh. Wasn’t expecting that. Welp! Can’t do anything about it!” Constantine shrugged, summoning a portal.

“Nope!” Jason said, slamming his hands down on Constantine’s shoulders, yanking the Brit away from the portal. “What the fuck was that?!”

“Oh, _that?_ There’s some kind of ancient magic around the girl, can’t find her. So, I’ve outlived my usefulness, bye!” He said, whirling around and stalking through the portal. The portal closed before anyone could follow.

“What do we do now?” Dick asked, making Tim sigh.

“I’m sorry, but do we not have the _most advanced supercomputer in the world fifteen feet away?!_ ” He snapped. Everyone stood there for a moment, sheepish, before Damian made his way to the Batcomputer. He tapped the keys impatiently, waking up the computer and typing in his password. Jason walked over and handed him the photo he had taken back from Constantine. Damian scanned it into the computer and waited. He would find his sister…or the world would burn.


	10. Chapter 10

Amirah sat in her seat, glaring dead ahead. Alya was gossiping with Lila in the seats behind her, the witch claiming that she was learning bass guitar, but was struggling against the pain in her ‘injured’ wrist. Amirah sighed. Such nonsense would only lead to the witch’s demise. Felix sent her a commiserating smile and offered an earbud, which she gladly took, sending him a fond glance when she realized it was playing a playlist they had made together one night when they were relaxing in her room after an Akuma attack. The current song was ‘Cool Cats’, a single Jagged had written about their alter egos. It was a love story, and Amirah couldn’t have enjoyed it more. Resting her head on his shoulder, she let her eyes drift closed as the music played. She may not be able to take the witch down _just_ yet, but at least she had Felix.

A few songs later, they pulled to a stop in front of a massive skyscraper, and Amirah mentally tried to count how many floors there were. She lost count at sixty-two, maybe two-thirds of the way up the building.

“Alright, class!” Mademoiselle Bustier called, gathering the cluster of students around her. “You each have a partner for your trip, they were assigned back at the school. If you’ve forgotten who you’re partnered with, come ask me. You and your partner are to be staying together the entire trip, and your passes will not work if you’re more than five feet away from each other. Your tasks are linked to your partners, so you have no reason to wander away. If you get lost or separated from your partner, come back down to the lobby, and have the receptionist page me. I doubt I need to remind any of you, but _please_ behave! No dares, no bets, to stunts, _none_ of it!” The usually soft teacher sent a hard look at Kim and Alix, who had been partnered with Max and Nathaniel respectively. Marinette rolled her eyes and intertwined her fingers with Felix’s, who sent her a fond look.

“Ready for this?” He asked, gently running his thumb over her knuckles.

“Nope.” She sighed. “But let’s go.” The two made their way into the building and lined up behind their classmates, who were all waiting to receive their tasks from a young man with black hair and blue eyes. After a few minutes, they made their way up to him, and he stared at her for a few seconds, before speaking.

“Um, name?” He asked, glancing at his checklist.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Felix Culpa.” She said. The man made a face, before nodding.

“You guys are with me, actually! I run the miniature details around the tower, mainly me running messages and dealing with any inter-departmental messes. My name is Richard Grayson, but you can call me Dick, it’s great to meet you!” He said, smiling at them. He still looked at her as if he knew her from somewhere. Waving for them to follow, the man started walking across the foyer, leaving Amirah and Felix to follow. The duo stepped into the elevator with the man, who pressed a button, swiped and card, and turned to face them. “So, tell me about your families!”

“No siblings, just me and my Mum.” Felix shrugged.

“It’s me and both my parents, they’re great!” Amirah chirped. Her old chipper persona would come in handy here, at least. “They run the Dupain-Cheng Patisserie et Boulangerie, about four and half blocks from the Eiffel Tower. They’re really the best.”

“Cool! I have three younger brothers, Jason, Tim, and Damian.” Amirah repressed a twitch. So, the original boy wonder was fishing for information. She could see it, in the way he glanced at her when he listed names, the tension in his shoulders.

“That must be so nice! I always wanted a sister.” She gushed, smiling widely.

“Yeah, Marinette’s parents are fantastic,” Felix said, wrapping an arm around her waist. That’s what she adored about him, he picked up on the little things. For example, when she desperately needed to get a fishing asshole of a surrogate older brother off her back. Even _if_ she saw Damian again, she couldn’t so much as say her name without the brand on her neck nearly killing her.

“Huh. I can’t _imagine_ being an only child.” Dick said. “I’ve always had a big family. So, any hobbies?”

“I like to read and write, and Marinette here is a blossoming fashion designer. She made both our outfits and has worked commission for some big names in the past.”

“Really? Cool! Anyone I may know?” Dick asked.

“Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale, actually.” She said, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Oh, wicked! My brother Tim loves Jagged Stone, and my girlfriend Babs adores Clara Nightingale.”

“Cool! I actually have a few commission sketches in my notebook in my bag, would you like to see them?”

“I’d love to!” Dick enthused, bouncing in place. Amirah smiled at his child-like enthusiasm, reaching into her messenger bag to dig out a medium-sized pad of paper, bound in lambskin (It had been a gift from Felix.), and flipped it open to a bookmarked page about a third of the way in. There on the page was a sketch of a soft, flowing pantsuit, with a halter neck and flared legs, with a corset-like bodice. It was a dusky pink with gold accents, and the notes scribbled in the margins indicated it would be made of silk.

“This is really gorgeous!” Dick said, gently holding the book, something Amirah appreciated. “What material are you thinking for trim, I see you mentioned it in your notes.”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I was thinking a sheer gold ruffled organza or tule, depending on how I get the silk to drape.” Amirah said, thinking of her prop jumpsuit at home, made of cotton and held on the mannequin with pins.

“That’ll look great! Maybe braid or twist the fabric for the halter?” He suggested, and Amirah gasped.

“That’s what I’ve been missing!” she snatched the notebook, grabbed a pencil from her bag, and rapidly erased the details along the halter neck, before sketching in a twisted design. “Oh, Penny will love it!” She squealed. “Thanks so much!”

“Of course! We’re here, come on!” He chirped, stepping out into what looked like a massive industrial kitchen. “Right now, we need to confirm the lunch menu for the whole building. We have a buffet-style cafeteria above this floor, connected by a few staircases for staff and a _lot_ of dumbwaiters for the dishes. Marinette, you mentioned your parents are bakers, would you like to see our bread production area?”

“I’d love to!” It wasn’t a lie, Amirah adored baking as a method of meditation, and bread was the best thing to make when she was angry. Dick lead them across the kitchen space, before tapping a man almost as big as Tom on the shoulder.

“Jacques!” He said, shaking the man’s hand when he turned around.

“Dick! And who are these two?” The man said. His accent placed him as from the Ivory Coast, and his teeth were pure white against his dark skin.

“Bonjour! My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and this is my boyfriend, Felix Culpa. It’s very nice to meet you. I mentioned to Monsieur Grayson that my parents own the Dupain-Cheng Patisserie et Boulangerie, and he offered to show me the bread area.”

“A little baker! Come, we may not cater to the public, but I dare say our bread will impress even the daughter of the best bakers in all Paris! And who knows, maybe you can help me with a problem.” He was a loud, jovial man, and he clapped a hand on her shoulder, guiding her past a few rows of fermentation stations (Sealed boxes with warmers inside to help bread rise more consistently) to a long butcher’s-block table where a half dozen people of all sizes were kneading dough.

“What types of flour do you use?” She asked, seeing the faint differences in the colors of the dough. “And, well, I like to bake, but my passion lies in fashion design, so I’m not sure how much help I will be.”

“The first two loaves are bread flour, the next two are whole wheat, and the other two are one-to-one ratio gluten-free flour. However, we cannot get the right amount of whole wheat flour to yeast, the dough either over-rises or refuses to rise at all!” Jacques lamented, throwing his hands in the air.

“Have you considered slowly heating the milk, before you add the yeast?” She asked, thinking carefully.

“Of course.” He sighed.

“Same temperature every time?” Amirah proposed.

“Yes.” Jacques rubbed his hands together in thought.

“Same type of milk?” She asked.

“Obviously.” He scoffed as if insulted.

“Same brand of whole wheat flour?” She said, running out of ideas.

“…No,” Jacques said, as if stunned he hadn’t realized. “Of course! Different strains of wheat used by different companies will have different protein ratios! You are brilliant!” Jacques cheered, raising Amirah in the air and laughing wildly.

X0X0X

“Monsieur Grayson,” Felix called, turning to where his mentor was rapidly speaking in German with a woman in a chef’s coat.

“Yeah?” Dick asked, over.

“What else did we need to do?” 

“Oh! Well, Yvonne and I have confirmed today’s menu is going well, and the menu for tomorrow is set, so I think we’re good.” Dick said, checking his clipboard.

“Then, could we rescue Mari?” Felix asked, gesturing to where Jacques was rapidly babbling to the group still kneading dough, presumably about Marinette, seeing as how she was about as red as a strawberry.

“Welp, we do need to a check on the set up for a press conference upstairs, and then we have to get Timmy ready. And to do all that, I do need to keep both of you with me.” Dick chuckled, before walking over and tapping Jacques on the shoulder (it was a bit of a reach).

“Monsieur Grayson! This _petite fille_ is a genius! If she wasn’t set to become a designer to the stars, she would be the perfect apprentice! A genius, I tell you!” Jacques cheered, making Marinette turn even redder.

“I’m sure she is, Jacques, but we need to keep going. Any chance the croissants are ready? I need to get Timmy ready, and you know he loves your fresh pastries.” The large man nodded, calling for an assistant to grab a few croissants and bag them up.

“Let me know what you think, _ma petite fille_! I doubt they are as good as your families, but I have hope.” Jacques chuckled, before ushering them out of the kitchens. “Shoo, shoo, go and tame that brother of yours, and I will stay here and keep the kitchens in order.” Dick laughed, letting Marinette take the baggie of bread and allowing Jacques to usher them towards the elevator. Once the doors shut behind them, Dick turned to face them.

“That was a little more eventful than I expected, but here’s hoping the rest of the day goes off without a hitch!” Amirah and Felix both winced. “Um, what was the in-unison flinching about?” Dick asked, looking disturbed.

“In America, you have your villains, in Paris, we have ours.” Felix sighed. “Ours are of a…magical persuasion, and seem to have a knack for striking at terrible times.”

“Really? I heard reports of one-off villains occasionally attacking the city, but nothing truly consistent.”

“There is, sadly. Their names are Hawkmoth and Mayura, they use magical artifacts known as Miraculous, little is known about them. From what we’ve dug up, they date all the way back to feudal China. Hawkmoth’s miraculous allows him to forcibly possess someone when they get too emotional, creating an Akuma. Mayura transforms items into mindless beasts known as Amoks dead set on retrieving the Ladybug and Cat miraculous. Those two are wielded by our first two heroes, Beetle Bug and Chat Noir. There’s a third hero, Namrat Kabira, who wields the Tiger, but she hasn’t been on the scene as long as the others.” Amirah leaned back against the wall, scoffing. “Some people in the government decided telling the outside world is a bad idea for the tourism industry, so until the heroes take out the villains, we’re all kinda stuck suppressing our emotions.”

“Wait…seriously?” Dick asked, looking back and forth between them. “That’s…severely unhealthy.”

“Eh. That’s Paris.” Amirah shrugged, right as the elevator reached their floor. She stepped out along with Felix, leaving Dick to stand there, stunned.


End file.
